


Aftermath

by runsinthefamily



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Anders is so fucking emo, Bromance, Caretaking, Friendship, Varric is the broest, but he certainly has reason to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:47:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsinthefamily/pseuds/runsinthefamily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kmeme prompt:<i> "Come on, Blondie. You're strong enough to overcome this."<br/>to<br/>"Hang in there, Blondie. We're going to get you out of this."</i></p><p><i>It might just be the fact that the "Blondie" nickname always gets me going but Varric's worrying over Anders in Legacy really melted my heart. Can I get some post-Legacy h/c in the Hanged Man backrooms?</i></p><p><i>Romance preferred, but bromance is also welcome.</i></p><p>I love Varric.  And I love writing Varric.  And I love Anders.  I couldn't quite get them into bed for some reason.  I bet Bianca was cockblocking somehow, that harpy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

Hawke was morose all the way back to Kirkwall. He and his Grey Warden sister walked on ahead, silently, a single unit of family angst that Varric really didn't have the desire to penetrate. Hawke was a bit of a bastard at the best of times, and this was about the farthest time from "best" that they'd had since Leandra had died.

No, Varric was content to plod along behind, keeping an eye on the fourth member of their sad little group.

Anders hunched in on himself like a man who'd been given a death blow and just hadn't bothered to fall down yet. He looked terrible, pale and skinny and haunted. Hawke had been none too gentle when Anders had gone all Vengeance down in the Roads, and Varric had his suspicions about just how much healing Anders had allowed himself, in his guilt and misery.

The mage stumbled and Varric smoothly inserted himself beneath the outstretched arm. "Easy there, Blondie," he said. "Lean on me, why don't you."

Anders made no comment beyond a weary sigh and Varric took the opportunity to put an arm around the other man's waist. It was kind of shocking how bony he was underneath all his layers.

"I told you we'd get out," he said. "As poetic as it would have been for you to go down fighting in the Deep Roads, after you'd forsworn the Wardens and all, I didn't think that was how your story went."

"Stories," said Anders thinly. "My life isn't a story, Varric. It's just one long cock-up."

"So, it's a comedy then," said Varric.

"Heh," said Anders, the least-amused sound Varric had ever heard.

"Alright, alright," said Varric. "I'll shut up."

"No, don't," said Anders. "The more you talk, the more human I feel."

"I'll talk all the way back to Kirkwall, if you want," said Varric.

It got him a wan smile. Wasn't much but it was better than nothing.

***

When they hit Kirkwall the Hawkes made for the estate. Bethany paused to hug Varric and Anders, her gaze lingering on the older Grey Warden for a moment too long. She raised her eyebrows at Varric as Anders turned away, and Varric gave her a short nod.

"Will you come on, Beth?" said Hawke. He was hulking and irritated and just so quintessentially _Hawke_. Varric felt, as always, the twin impulses to give the man a hug and kick him square in the ass.

He caught Anders's sleeve as the man trudged toward the Docks. "I don't think so, Blondie," he said firmly. "You're coming with me. A stiff drink and a hot meal before you go back to that hole and start patching up the hopeless."

Anders opened his mouth, shut it again, and came along without protest.

Varric marched him up to Casa Tethras, ensconced him in a chair by the fire with a cup of wine and a blanket, and sent downstairs for Norah to run along to the Noble Nug for some dwarven takeout. He was a surfacer through and through, but there wasn't anything like dwarven cooking to stick to your ribs, and Anders looked in desperate need of some ballast.

Two glasses of wine and a large helping of comfort food later, Anders was looking a bit rosier in the cheeks. He'd shed his feathers and unbuckled his coat and had stretched his lanky legs out in front of him. His gaze was still hollow, though, swimming with things unspoken.

"I almost killed you."

He said it to the fire and then threw a shard of a glance Varric's way.

"You didn't," said Varric.

"I could have." Anders looked down at his hands. "I still can't believe ... Hawke said that Justice summoned _shades_. That's ..." he shook his head. "Wrong," he finished. "To bring malicious spirits across the Veil ... I would have said that he wasn't capable." He twisted his fingers together, gnawing on his lower lip. "He's changing. More every day. I tried to pretend that ... but it's true. I wonder sometimes how much Justice is left, and how much is just Vengeance."

"I think he was just trying to protect you," said Varric, carefully.

Ander gave a hollow laugh. "I felt like a bone caught between two dogs. Maker, I thought my head had been crowded _before_. I don't remember Justice coming forward. But I think that if he hadn't been there I would have run straight to Corypheus and fallen on my knees, just like those damned dwarves."

"I told Hawke he should leave you at home," said Varric. "I saw you during the expedition, I know how you feel about the Roads. The Corypheus thing was just the fucked up icing on the Tainted cake."

"I've been a Warden almost eight years," said Anders. "I never thought ... about the Taint, I always assumed that I'd ..."

A good listener always knew when to shut up. Varric waited.

"I always assumed I'd die before I ever felt the Calling." Anders shivered. "After Justice, I ... but it's still inside me. Corrupting me. So many things, Varric. What I've done, what I've _become_ ..." He put his hands to his head.

"You're a good man," said Varric. His heart hurt, watching Anders pull distractedly at his hair.

"I'm not. Hawke ..."

"Hawke is an asshole," said Varric. "Maker love him. He's great theatre, he'd die for his friends, but he's got shit for tact and the emotional finesse of a bronto. For the Maker's sake, don't listen to Hawke." He leaned forward in his chair and prodded Anders on the knee. "You have saved more lives in your first year in this city than Hawke will ever manage. Void take it, I think you've saved more people than he's _killed_. Now that's a feat worth bragging about."

Anders looked up, snorting a little. "You're exaggerating."

"Murder makes for better stories," said Varric. "But I've been watching you, Blondie. You're a hero. The boring, ragged, one-day-at-a-time kind, but a hero."

"I never wanted to be," said Anders.

"Guess you shouldn't have done all that brave, selfless shit, then," said Varric.

"How foolish of me."

"Dumb as a nug."

Anders scrubbed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. "Tell me a story," he said, like a child.

Varric sat back, swirling the wine in his cup in slow, lazy circles. "What kind?"

"Any kind," said Anders, hauling the blanket up around his shoulders again and laying his head against the back of the chair. "A happy ending."

"Tall order," said Varric.

"There's got to be some," said Anders, his eyes shutting. "Make one up, if you have to."

"For you, Blondie," said Varric, "anything."


End file.
